


ONISM

by Lovova



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Additional tags will be added once they apply, Multi, Please protect yourself, Sequel to Spiralini(ng out of control), Very likely trigger heavy, Way more plot then originally expected, Yandere
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-06-30 19:24:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15758133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lovova/pseuds/Lovova
Summary: A mutilated Sans gets rescued by the Omega Timeline, and things get sorta strange from there.Alternatively Titled:How to deal with the persistent and obvious reality that you could have been anyone or anything at all, and you still ended up being nobody, and missing a foot on top of that.Alternative Title to the Alternative Title:It doesn't matter what you're going through. the world doesn't stop.





	ONISM

**Author's Note:**

> Legit, this fic wouldn't exist without silverryu25.
> 
> They left me an awesome comment a long-ass time ago that got me started writing this, though I only got it to a point where I thought it would be worth putting up now. There's a lot of reasons for this (real life stuff, a desire to leave the series open, the fear of not being able to eventually finish it), but none of that really matters anymore. Still, if chapter updates are slow, or if the series is eventually put onto a permanent hiatus, I apologize in advance. I really am putting this up with the best intentions.
> 
> On that note, this fic is a direct sequel to my other story, Spiralini(ng out of control), which in turn is actually a sequel to a bunch of other lovely stories. I'm not saying that every aspect of this story would be incomprehensible without reading the other stories first, but a lot of it would be kinda weird, and honestly, it might help for you to check it out so that you understand what I mean when I warn in the tags that things will be "very likely trigger heavy", even though it's not yet.
> 
> Also, on an additional note, I'm borrowing a lot of characters from other peoples AU's for this. A lot of the characters have blanket permission from their creators for the Undertale community to use, but others I've asked permission for. All will be credited eventually within the end notes of this story, but I'm holding back on the credits for now since a lot of their identity's is meant to be a surprise. When they're revealed and confirmed in the story, that's when they'll show up in the credits.
> 
> Anyway, that's a lot of notes. Thanks so much for your patience, and, I hope you enjoy the story!

Chapter One: Adronitis

Alternative Title: Having a shit ton of interesting AU characters is the best and worst thing, everyone has the same name, this is just going to continue to be an issue isn't it, FML.

 

Alternative to the Alternative Title: This really was just going to be a Hurt/Comfort fic, it really was. it all just kind of got away from me.

-

 

Sans felt pretty proud of himself when the machine started to hum, the display screen which had been displaying nothing but unfinished coding and distorted colors on timeline formulas that hadn't lead to anything concrete now displaying a very solid picture of Snowdin from several months ago. The fact that the display had started at this particular moment was a coincidence, and because of that nothing of particular interest was being displayed. Just Snowdin and its many friendly monsters going about their day.

 

There was that one kid Sans saw around sometimes, playing gently with the youngest of the bunny family.

 

There was Grillby, melting some snow off his bars windows while the rush was down.

 

Heh, there was Papyrus, making his way home from the store, giving friendly greetings to those he passed by, who polity smiled and waved back. Sans didn't know where he himself was at this point, and wasn't overly concerned, already putting in a new formula, which once completed brought up another point in the timeline, from only last week. Then another, which showed another point, almost two years back. Then another.

 

He kept going for several hours, the program learning as he imputed more and more formulas, until finally the generator started to piece together the whole of the timeline itself, which displayed itself neatly in a line graph, Sans inserting footnotes of small points in the past that he found interesting.

 

It wasn't long before Sans had the ability to see any point in the past for most locations down in the caverns, though he didn't know the coding for the ruins and didn't want to even consider starting to try and create a formula for anything as large as the above grounds or the city. It was slow, methodical work, but Sans kept at it and soon had a program that did a lot of the more tedious parts of the coding for him.

 

Then, one day, before he had even attempted it, the line on the display shot forward.

 

Sans had stared, stunned, as the timeline display presented viewing options past the day he currently resided in. While being able to see ahead in the timeline had always been a goal, Sans had been completely taken by surprise that his program had learned the patterns so well and so quickly as to start displaying events several days ahead. He had to test it, of course. He carefully examined the events of the next week and compared it to his machines predictions. Some parts were annoyingly vague as to not say if they had been correct or not, and some had just been plain wrong, but Sans kept tweaking with it, and by the third week, the predictions were accurate almost one hundred percent of the time.

 

Time went by. Sans considered showing someone, anyone, the fruits of his success, as slowly his timeline became more complete, the past almost completely coherent and the future predictions going further and further ahead in time every day. But he never could bring himself too. Someone would ask why he was bothering. There was no invention so magnificent nor revolutionary that someone wouldn't ask, 'yeah, but what was the point'?

 

The picture in his desk of himself and many people he absolutely did not recognize, standing next to the very machine that he had thought he had only started building last year, scared him. The note next to the picture written in what was clearly his own, shaky handwriting that said 'Don't Forget' worried him endlessly. The fact that a clear timeline, more and more accurate every day, didn't show even a hint of himself or his brother before three years ago, anywhere, ever, filled Sans with cold, stupefying terror every time he allowed himself to actually think about it.

 

No. He wasn't ready to explain to anyone why he was fixing the machine.

 

So he kept it to himself and worked and worked on the machine, willing the future to display itself farther and farther, the past clearer and clearer, and everything was going really well.

 

Then, one day, the future timeline was wrong.

 

According to the machine, Papyrus was planning to go to the Captain of the Royal Guard, some fish-monster named Undyne, and request to be allowed to join. According to the machine, this request was going to go really well, Undyne giving Papyrus a few trials to prove endurance, strength, mental fortitude, and Papyrus would pass them all and join. This event was shown a month in advance to Sans, and Sans had really been looking forward to it, had been almost giddy with smug knowing as Papyrus hinted more and more often what he was considering doing, Sans encouraging him all the way until finally the day of the event arrived. Sans had gone to bed that night, content in the knowledge that his brother would come back later the next day, proud and excited.

 

The next day came, and Papyrus had come back. But rather then beaming with excitement about his admittance, Sans had been shocked to discover Papyrus had been elated to be allowed to start training with Undyne for the mere possibility of joining the Royal Guard one day. While Sans had congratulated the elated Skeleton, doing his best to not appear disappointed for him, he had gotten himself excused as soon as he could and had run to his machine, desperate to figure out where it had all gone wrong.

 

He corrected the formula. The machine presented him with the same timeline, where Papyrus had been accepted into the Royal Guard. He tweaked the formula again. Same thing. He kept this up for hours, trying to insist to the program that it was very much wrong, when the program seemed absolutely convinced that it had predicted this event accurately.

 

Six hours into the fix, the latest revision had been loading for nearly forty minutes, Sans exhausted eyes glaring at it from his darkened skull. The revisions didn't usually take this long to apply, and Sans was close to giving up for the night when the graph suddenly loaded back up, bright and pretty and...

 

He stared at it. He stared at it for a long time. Numbly, he re-put in the formula, reloaded it, waited for a mere five minutes before the graph returned, the machine insisting that it had done it correctly the first time.

 

The graph was no longer a straight line. At the point in time which Papyrus would have been at Undyne house, requesting to be allowed to join, the line broke away from its source, and the second line that resulted from this went on perfectly perpendicular to the original line. Events started to pop up in both timelines, showing two similar, but very different, futures. One where Papyrus had been allowed to join. One where he wasn't.

 

According to the reading, both of these futures were one hundred percent accurate.

 

Sans held a cup that had run out of coffee several hours ago, the cup shaking in his grip. One of two things had gone wrong. Either his machine had broken. Or reality had.

 

-

 

Sans terror made him avoid his lab for two whole days, but sheer, blind curiosity eventually drove him back. The two lines were still there, both going strong into two similar but different futures. For the sake of clarity, Sans changed the color settings on the display, the two lines now different colors. The color for what he considered his, the correct timeline, was solid black. The branched off timeline he made a dark green. Feeling slightly more in control of the situation, Sans went back to work to see if he could correct what must, what simply had to be, user error.

 

He tweaked, and prodded, and scrapped and re-did and then re-did again.

 

He should of stopped. Oh God, he should have stopped. There were more lines three days later.

 

Once again, all the branching off lines suddenly appeared in parts of the Alpha (his timeline, and still the only one he really considered 'true') line that had already occurred. The future was always one, solid line, but the more he messed with the programming, the more lines from the past grew. Decisions that would have seemed small and unimportant with one timeline suddenly seemed to sprout two or three lines off of it, and those lines sprouted more. The more he looked into it, the farther back the timeline went, well before the previous five or so years he had originally been exploring: he could now see events as far back as a hundred years, and the more it went backwards, the more branches stemmed. Eventually, his graph, which had once been a solid line, looking more like a massive, ungainly scribble, choice and decisions creating...what? Timelines that could have been? Depicting events that could have happened? Possibility after possibility that simply did not occur?

 

Or, maybe...in some...alternative universe...did occur? Has?

 

Is?

 

The graph got so unseemly that Sans spent several weeks taking his original 'alternate color' concept for the lines and programming the computer to clean up the image by grouping what he had started consistently calling 'alternate universes' of almost identical natures into subgraphs. It resulted in a thousand branches that had stemmed from the reality where Papyrus was a member of the Royal Guard all being neatly packed into the Dark Green line, the vast altercations in that timeline only being displayed if Sans himself clicked on that timeline into order to explore its possibilities further. The machine got better and better at recognizing which batches of universe belonged in its own sub line, and after awhile the impossible to navigate graph became a somewhat easier to visualize display of maybe twenty substantially different timeline, though every now and again a new category would grow, enough universes within it to justify having its own main line.

 

Unlike his own timeline, Sans still did not have the ability to actually visually display events that occurred in the other timelines, only to get basic ideas of what was happening in the other universes. Still, he imagined that ability was not that far off in the future, as the machine seemed to be...well...learning. Every day he came back to the lab and the graph got more coherent, more seamless. Events were described with more clarity, as if the machine were desperate for its owner to understand what it could see.

 

And still his own timeline showed only one future. Which, in a way, was almost like not being able to see the future at all. It was maddening, to see what was most likely to happen, only for that event to pass and for Sans to see branch after branch of what could have occurred instead or, in fact, did.

 

And honestly, it was all terrifying. He wasn't sure how literally to take the machines predictions. Its certainties that all of these realities could, and did, happen.

 

And every day, every single day, there was more lines.

 

-

 

I know what you're thinking, but no.

 

That wasn't the Sans you came to read about. The Sans above was never locked away. His Papyrus never hurt him. Would never dream of hurting him. That Sans is below. The Sans below never got the machine to work. Had barely started it before everything had gone truly, terribly wrong. The Sans above was far more lucky.

 

Let's move on to the Sans below.

 

But keep this Sans, above, in mind.

 

He is the end of all things.

 

-

 

“Mangled.”

 

“Um, Sans, pleas-”

 

“Lame.”

 

“No, absolutely not.”

 

“Crip?”

 

“San's, enough!” Ayeka!Alphys sighed, putting down her clipboard. Scribbled on it was a fairly simple form, describing Sans’ appearance, the number of his universe, it's basic ‘type’, and a spot for additional notes, which as far as Sans could see was still blank. The only other blank spot on the form was his name. On a computer screen, placed in a way that both Alphys and Sans could see it, was a long, long list of names that had already been taken by the other inhabitants, put on display to make sure no new resident picked a duplicate.

 

Sans had only given the list a courtesy glance before trying out some names for size.

 

“Limpy,” he tried, taking a muted sort of pleasure in Alphys’ growing frustration, “Come on, Doctor Alphys, you said most Sans’ ended up picking names that describe them. Something like Stump!Sans would fit the only one-footed Sans around here pretty well, right?”

 

“Please, Sans,” Doctor Alphy's sighed, readjusting her glasses in an absentminded kind of way, “I know it's hard to get used to, but please use my chosen name. Learning to differentiate between all the duplicates saves everyone loads of confusion, and it takes a serious amount of effort from everyone involved to sustain it.”

 

“Right, sorry.” Sans said, though honestly he thought this whole 'chosen name' stuff was stupid. “Ayeka, right?”

 

Alphys nodded, a tired grin on her face as she said, somewhat off-hand, “From Tenchi Muyo. Two more Alphy's and we'll have the whole cast! Won't that be something?”

 

She laughed at this, and Sans got the impression there hadn't been much to laugh about whichever universe she had come from. Appearance-wise, she didn't seem any different from the Alphy's Sans himself had known in -his- timeline, what they called a branch from the 'classic' timeline. She did, however, wear a small button with a picture of a blue haired anime character. Sans could only assume this character was Doctor Ayeka's namesake.

 

Almost every Alphy's he had met here had similar buttons, as well as a few Undyne's, along with one impressionable Asgore. So many buttons, and if the list of names he was looking at on the computer was any indication, the anime named members of this universe were a relatively small amount. How many beings actually lived here? The number had to rival the population of the whole Underground. Maybe even more.

 

...and all of these beings had to be rescued?

 

It was a daunting question with miserable implications. Sans didn't want to know. He didn't even really want to be here right now. He had been putting off this appointment for weeks. He didn't need a name. He didn't need a way to be differentiated, or located, not when he didn't want to talk to anyone anyway. What was the point?

 

It was better not to be anyone anyway. You can't hurt someone who isn't anything.

 

“Sans,” Alphy's tried, again, “I know this is hard. You're not the first being in here who struggled to pick a name. Most people struggle a little with it, honestly. It's hard to...it can feel like you're giving up a part of your identity, and that can hurt a lot of peoples pride. Those from the Underfell branches are always the absolute worst about it, oh man, let me tell you.” Alphy's snorted to herself a bit, before growing somber as she continued, “but for a lot of beings here, for all of them, in some way or another, chosen names become just as important as their original names. Maybe even -more- important. These names can, and often do, defines them in some way, and other people will treat them differently based on what they choose. I've personally noted a running phenomena that peoples behaviors and personality will even shift to better accommodate their designations. Even if it is only subconsciously, being called something over and over will influence you. So, yes, the fact that you're missing a foot and... other things,” Alpha said, tactfully not looking at the collar around Sans neck. “make you easier to spot in a crowd. However, they don't have to be, and -shouldn't- be, the thing that defines you. Don't pick a name based on that. Please.”

 

Messing with the doctor had rapidly lost its amusement value, and Sans was starting to get worn out. He just wanted to go back to his tent. Go to sleep for awhile. Maybe just a couple of eons. “So, what should I call myself then, Doctor Ayeka? What will pass the review board?”

 

Alphys gave him a relieved grin, picking up the clipboard. “Well, I always recommend picking a character name you are fond of when you can't think of anything original. Any stories you were fond of growing up or-?”

 

“Fortunato.” Sans said, keeping his face carefully passive, “How about Fortunato?”

 

Alphys looked at him warily. “Fortunato... is that from a show?”

 

“It's Italian for fortunate,” Sans explained, forcing an easy grin on his face, “and I'm still alive, aren't I?”

 

Alphys, wary of someone so pessimistic inexplicably picking such a positive name, knew there was probably something she was missing... but couldn't really bring herself to try and drag it out of him by this point. She was tired too. So, instead, she smiled, “Fortunato!Sans. Sure. That's lovely.”

 

Fortunato!Sans felt a weird sense of dismay as she wrote it down, the joke title twisting into something mean and dark in his gut, spitting at him with its mocking story. For a moment he almost wanted to take it back. Just call himself something stupid, like Bob!Sans. But he bit his tongue, metaphorically, and kept a straight face through the rest of the meeting. It didn't matter anyway. Who cared what he was called? He wasn't Fortunato, and hell, he had barely been Sans for a long time. He wasn't anything.

 

Which was fine.

 

You couldn't hurt nothing.

 

-

 

Papyrus stood at the center of the living room. On the couch in front of him were three items: a rock, an anime DVD case, and one of his action figures.

 

These three items represented Undyne, Dr. Alphys, and King Asgore, respectively.

 

“Okay Papyrus, I brought the captain of the royal guard and the King,” said the DVD case, because in this practice scenario he had gone to Alphas first, “now, tell them what you told me.”

 

Papyrus smiled at the objects nervously. “Thank you for coming, sire, but but I don't really think someone of your stature needs to waste your time on-”

 

“Nonsense, Papyrus.” Interrupted the action figure. “My people are all important to me. If one of my citizens has gone missing, I want to be in the know. Please, tell us everything.”

 

“Right. Right. Thank you sir. So, my brother, Sans, has gone missing-”

 

“How long has Sans been missing, Papyrus?” asked the rock, kindly, but earnestly.

 

“Three weeks.” Papyrus tried, “And some days.”

 

The three items sputtered and shouted back at him. “Why didn't you come to us sooner!?” “Why would you keep this to yourself!?” “How do you know he's not dead!?” “What were you hiding!?”

 

Papyrus broke into a sweat and dialed the conversation back by a few minutes.

 

“How long has Sans been missing?”

 

“...three days?” Papyrus tried.

 

No shouting, but definitely a tension in the room, most of their minds shifting from 'potentially missing person' to 'potentially missing dust'.

 

“Why didn't you come to a sooner, Papyrus? The rock asked, looking slightly betrayed. She's a close friend, and a member of the royal guard. He should have wanted to come to her for help immediately.

 

“At first I just thought he just went out. I was happy, actually! It had been so long since he had even gotten out of bed. Then, when I realized he wasn't coming home, I thought I could find him myself. Now...now I just don't know what to do.”

 

The story was a lie, but not totally. Papyrus -had- been searching for weeks. Every square inch of the underground, every rock, every crevice. He had searched everywhere once and then did it again. No signs of him. No trail. No anything.

 

This was truly his last resort. He didn't know what else to do.

 

“Do not worry, young monster. We will have the whole of the underground looking soon. Someone will find something.” The action figure promised. It was a sincere gesture. The Underground was only so large, and everyone knew everyone else. People didn't go missing, and when they did, it was taken seriously. Monsterkind really would look, if King Asgore asked it.

 

Papyrus nodded, grateful. Then he felt his skin start to bubble with stress.

 

Here came the hard part of the scenario.

“Papyrus, we found Sans!” The rock suddenly shouted in triumph, before saying suddenly, “but, he's in real bad shape.”

 

“Oh, my stars!” DVD case shouts, “is that the magic-dampening collar around his neck!? Papyrus, I told you in no uncertain terms that this was only good for one, maybe two hours, and only in emergencies! It's incredibly dangerous to leave on longer than that; magic builds and builds and becomes unstable... How long has he had this on!?”

 

"H-he must have put it on before he left. So only... 3 days?" Papyrus lied weakly.

 

“Papyrus, my machines and science stuff says his magic has been building up for months!” the DVD case accused, “how did you let this happen?!”

 

“Papyrus, someone really beat him badly. Also, why is he wearing one of your boots?” The rock wondered, “he can't seem to walk on it at all. Here, Sans, write on this and tell me what has happened!”

 

"C-can't that wait! Sans needs rest first! Let me take him home and I'll call you when he's ready to-"

 

“Papyrus,” the action figure said in a shocked, hush voice, “he's written in this message that... -you- did this to him.”

 

Papyrus's skin bubbled harder, "It was for his own good, it was for... it was for... ugh!"

 

Papyrus took the end of the couch and violently upended it, the items wildly flying in every direction. The rock broke in half. The action figure lost an arm. The DVD case, at very least, was fine... just laying there. Judging him.

 

Papyrus took a couple of deep, shuddering breaths... and then began to cry.

 

What was he going to do? What could he possibly do?!

 

Papyrus collapsed onto his backside, leaning back against the television and putting his sobbing face into the palm of his gloves, his whole body shivering in furious, frightened tears. There was no good outcome to this. There was no good path!

 

The best scenario, the absolute best scenario, was this: he tells everyone Sans is missing, the search party goes out, and they find his dust. Alphas would use her gizmos to verify the dust was him, it'd be ruled a case of ' falling down ', due to loss of hope, or the red in him giving out, or to whatever, and there would be a funeral. No fuss. No questions. Best case scenario.

 

But if they found him, and he was alive...

 

Papyrus sobbed. That was the thing, though, wasn't it. He wanted Sans to still be alive. He wanted his brother back. His whole being wanted that more than anything else. But if the search party went out, and he was found alive, but in hiding...

 

Worst case. Without competition, worst case scenario.

 

Papyrus stood up, and began to pace his living room. If Sans was alive, the only thing to do was keep the fact that he's missing to himself and try to find his brother on his own. Perfect, except that's what he had been trying to do for almost a month now, with no results. If Sans was dead and Papyrus held back the fact that he was missing, someone might stumble across his dust on their own. Then, not only was his brother dead, but there would be the question of why Papyrus had decided not to tell anyone...

 

Damned if you do, damned if you don't, damned if you do, damned if you don't...

 

Sans was dead. Sans had to be dead. Nothing else made sense. He had run away, then he had died, or Papyrus would have found him by now. The safest option was to tell the others, let them find the dust, put this all behind him. That was the smart choice.

 

...

 

But what if he was alive?

 

What could Papyrus possibly say to save himself if his brother was found alive?

 

Round and round the thoughts went, a carousel of self-doubt, denial and paranoia. Sans couldn't possibly be alive. But if he was alive, Papyrus's life was ruined. But if he was dead and Papyrus didn't tell, his life was ruined.

 

Round, and round, and round, damned if you do, damned if you don't, damned if you do, damned if you-

 

-

 

Sans wasn't actually aware that he grimaced every time someone used his chosen name. Like Alphys had predicted, picking a constant reminder of his past hadn't done anything for his mental health, and it wasn't long before others started noticing.

 

Not that anyone could do anything about it for a long time. Sans didn't allow others to get close to him. People rarely even had the opportunity to even meet him. He kept his head low, his responses short, and his interest non-existent. People might meet him for a moment, and then Sans would swiftly remove himself from their presence. He just wanted to be alone, and for a long time, he was very efficient at getting his desire

 

It was a duplicate of Flowey, (a flower-monster that Sans hadn't even known existed until coming to this dimension) who was constantly hanging out with another, weird version of Sans, that started the trend of just calling him Fortunate! Sans. The flower claimed, loudly with an almost hissing screech to his words, that Fortunato was a dumb name only an idiot would pick, and that only other idiots would use it, and had started verbally abusing anyone else who dared to use San's correct chosen name. It was baffling when it happened, and for a little while San's thought maybe the flower was trying to bully him, and his efforts to hide away from the world doubled. But he did, honestly, feel better not being called that. Fortunato hurt. Fortunate was just, well... a word.

 

Which was how, despite what was written on his paperwork, Fortunato!Sans from Universe 2204 came to be known as Fortunate! Sans.

 

No one really knew who Fortunate!Sans was. Or at least, no one really knew anything about him. Only himself, the gray child, and another Sans that he had never learned the identity of knew about the kind of universe he had come from, and though he had never specifically asked, he was fairly certain neither of them had gone gossiping about him to the others.

 

Mostly he had been known as 'the Sans with the weird Papyrus boot' when he first got there. Then he had quickly become known as 'the Sans with the weird Papyrus Boot who had a screaming, raging panic attack when a Papyrus had tried to help him to Medical'. Then he was known as 'the weird Papyrus boot Sans that when said boot was carefully cut off, an Undyne had vomited upon seeing the contents inside' (so far no one had convinced that Undyne and the two Alphas working with her to explain exactly the damage they had seen).

 

The rumors and gossip over the Papyrus boot had subsided after it was properly removed and the foot replaced with a prosthetic. Sans walked with a limp, but otherwise you couldn't tell at a glance that he was one footed at all.

 

Sans wasn't recognized for the collar either. He wasn't unique in it, as there were Underfell versions of Sans who wore it as a fashion accessory, and either way, Sans worth a thick, white turtleneck over it, and a black jacket over that, neither of which he would ever take off around anyone. Most beings didn't even know he wore one.

 

With those two distinguishing features virtually undetectable, the only feature that Fortunate!Sans became known for was a set of contradictions: how incredibly, completely unsocial he was, and his three stalkers.

 

Sans lived in a tent in tent city, like most of the population did while the dimensions mechanics and scientist continued to try to work out how to keep actual architecture stable in the notoriously unstable dimension. As far as Sans understood it, it was something to do with the dimensions unique grasp of reality: this place wasn't actually supposed to have anything inside of it. While living beings seemed stable enough, items were touch and go, their properties sometimes distorting randomly, like a glitch, or disappearing entirely. The larger the size of the item, the more often it distorted. This made buildings incredibly unsafe to live in; so, while there were versions of Snowdon and Hotland around, no one was advised to live in them until they could prove to be made stable. Thus tents, which were small enough to be consistently stable, was the preferred housing method.

 

Sans almost never left his tent though. Not even to eat, which everyone did at the community galleys. The first time he had, he had kept his hoodie up, his eyes down, grabbed his food, and had practically ran back to his tent. Two weeks in, and he had only gone back to medical to have his leg checked up on and his name officially filed because an Alphy's had practically dragged him there. For a few days after that, said meeting was the most he had said anything to anyone, and once talk of the Papyrus boot had finally died, most everyone forgot he was there.

 

Then an incident at the galley had gotten him his new name, and his stalkers.

 

It had started off normal enough. Hood up, head down, heading straight too and from the galley. Fortunato!Sans, as he currently was, was just going to grab his food, go home, and sleep for another couple of days until his stomach and a headache forced him to go back there again. No problems. None. He could handle this. Just don't look at anyone. You're fine.

 

But he really hadn't been looking, so he hadn't been prepared for the voice of the monster who had volunteered to run the food line that day.

 

"Hello there, Sans!" Papyrus greeted cheerfully, "We have chicken and fish today! Do you have a preference?"

 

Sans shouldn't have looked up. That was the mistake. Had he not looked, he would have kept it together, not made a scene. But he had been genuinely caught off guard, and it had always been a Burgerpants on the line before, and his head shot up at the voice.

 

Him. Him. It's him.

 

It wasn't him. Of course it wasn't him. Not his Papyrus. Just some random, other 'classic' Papyrus. With the same voice. And the same face. And the same eyes…

 

To his credit, Sans didn't scream. He didn't throw a fit. He just put the tray down and walked away. He could put off eating for another day. He could put off eating forever. He could go back to his tent and just lay down and never get back up aga-

 

“Hey," a voice called out to him for what he didn't know was the third time, a gloved, bony hand touching his shoulder, "hey, Sans, you alright there, pal?"

 

Sans, heart pounding in his skull, shook off the touch and spun around, "don't you fucking touch me you.... " he stopped, thrown. It wasn't a Papyrus, as he had suspected, though there were a few in the crowd around watching the scene unfold. It was a Sans. A Sans kind of... dressed? Like a Papyrus? But all in blue?

 

Fortunato didn't know about it yet, but the Sans that had gotten his attention was from one of the Underswap branches. Out of his sleeve, wound around his neck and perched on his shoulder, was a long plant Sans recognized as a 'Flowey', one of the rare types of being to be seen in the area. The flower looked annoyed, though the other Sans just seemed concerned.

 

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to have startled you!” The other Sans insisted, holding up his hands in surrender, "I just wanted to...uh... do you want to eat with me? I noticed you were going to leave without eating, so-"

 

"No." Sans muttered, keenly aware of the area full of staring eyes as he lowered his head, turning once again to leave.

 

"No, wait, come on now!" the other Sans sputtered as Sans left towards the community tents, heading in the direction of his own. Over his shoulder he heard the flower go, "Oh, come on, EB, let the emo kid go sulk by himself."

 

"Flowey, no." the other Sans said in a stern, hushed tone, as if Sans wouldn't be able to hear them following him. "look at him, I think he needs help."

 

Sans grit his teeth on a number of remarks before saying, "Flowers right, bud. Leave me alone. Just decided I wasn't hungry.”

 

“See, he's not hungry, but I am. Let's go back."

 

The other Sans ignored his companion (Parasite?), running up to Sans side with a wide grin. "Hi, I'm sorry, me again, from earlier. Sorry for startling you. And now, I guess, sorry for, uh, stalking you? My name's EB! My friend here is Zombie!"

 

Zombie!Flowey groaned, "Just...don't ask, it was a stupid pick, I thought it was funny at the time. Unless I'm in a sea of Flowey's, just freaking call me Flowey."

 

EB!Sans laughed, "Don't mind his sass, he's a treasure, really. What about you? What can we call you?"

 

A thousand sarcastic remarks came to mind, but Sans was already exhausted. Why did he live so far away? Oh, right. Because he had wanted to avoid people. "Fortunato!Sans. " Sans muttered, hoping if he just gave EB what he was looking for, he'd eventually go away.

 

Just give them what they wanted. Just give them everything until they were satisfied and stopped. The same worthless idea tried over and over again. It worked just as well now as it always did.

 

EB stepped closer.

 

"Fortunato!" EB said, his beaming face turning into a frown as he noticed the immediate wince at the call, "Oh, um... that's... That's a nice choice. That's Italian, isn't it?"

 

His tent. Finally. "Whelp, this is me, it was nice chatting, bye now." Sans muttered, opening the flap.

 

"Wait, wait, if not lunch today, how about you have breakfast with us and our friend tomorrow?" EB!Sans asked, a touch of desperation in his voice, "We'll swing by to get you at eight, tomorrow! It'll be fun!"

 

"Gonna be busy. Bye.” Sans said, crawling into the tent.

 

"Okay, well, we'll swing by anyway, just to see if you change your mind. See you, Fortunato!" EB said, running off before Sans could insist they not come.

 

As EB!Sans and Zombie!Flowey walked away, EB!Sans said, "You know, I got the hint that he doesn't like his name that much."

 

"Why would he?" Zombie!Flowey said, who had noticed the same thing and, sympathetic to picking a terrible name, had already made a decision about it. "That's a really dumb sounding name."

 

They walked some more.

 

“So, do you...” EB hesitated, "do you think he'll have a problem with Edgelord?"

 

“I'm not crazy, right? This is the San's who just bolted from the galley at the mere sight of a Papyrus, right?“ Flowey laughed, "I don't even have a fear of Papyrus's and I think that weirdo is terrifying. Yeah, I'm sure that'll go over great. We should leave him alone, Sans."

 

Sans fussed lightly at his gloves, a thoughtfully concerned expression on his face as pulled at their frayed edges. "No... no, I think we could help him. I really do. With some monsters, it's all about persistence. Besides, Edgelord is super nice, once you get past all the..." EB tried to find the right word, "... Aesthetic."

 

"Yeah, sure." Flowey said, deadpan, "Whatever you want to tell yourself. But if he starts triggering your 'fits' we're dropping him like a Jerry. Edge will back me up on this, you know he will.”

 

At this EB seemed more confident. "Nah, I'll be fine. I've been good for months now. We can do this. The Magnificent Sans and his undying flower companion will win the day!"

 

“Sure. So, can we go eat now?”

 

-

 

It was Undyne alone who had finally taken Papyrus aside. It was five days into the monsterhunt, and honestly, two days since most of the search party had at least privately given up the small skeleton for lost. After failing to report him missing for two whole days, these next five days made Sans officially gone for a full week.

 

It didn't take a full week to search every square inch of the Underground. Not with every monster actively looking. It didn't even really take a day. But everyone looked, no one wanting to be the one to say enough was enough.

 

Undyne had taken Papyrus aside, looking serious and grave. She held his hands in her own. "Papyrus, " she said, feeling wretched, trying to stay solid on his behalf, " I... I'm sorry... I think- I think it's time to start thinking the worst.”

 

The search was giving Sans up for dead, dust or no dust. The hunt was called off.

 

Overwhelmed with relief, Papyrus wept into her arms.

-

 

The mistake had been that first day. Sans should have been more aggressive. Should have insisted he be left alone. Should definitely not have led the psychos to his actual fucking tent. That had been the mistake as, for the seventh day in a row, EB!Sans called outside of his tent, "Good morning, Fortunato! Would you like to join us for breakfast?!"

 

"I already told you, EB, " said the now-familiar voice of Flowey, "Fortunato is a stupid name. Just call him Fortunate."

 

"Uh... If he's okay with that, sure. Fortunate? Are you ready for breakfast?"

 

Sans groaned into his pillow.

 

"Please go die."

 

"No! Breakfast!"

 

"Flower, please kill him. " Sans said, appealing to the sometimes more reasonable stalker, " I will give you all of my gold if you kill him."

 

"We don't have currency here!" EB!Sans pointed out brightly.

 

"Flowe-y! Flowe-y! How hard is it to get that right!?"

“I hate you all.”

 

"Why are we inviting him out?" Said a third voice, one painfully familiar and yet still utterly foreign, " I thought the point of this morning's exercise was to bring it here?"

 

Sans tensed, looking up at the flap of his tent warily, “Edgelord, " he said, keeping his tone carefully neutral, though there was definitely a growl undercurrent in his words, "what are you talking about?"

 

EB!Sans laughed nervously and loudly from the other side. “Meh-heh-heh! Heh! Okay, you caught us. We already went to the galley and picked up some food. We're coming in."

 

Sans shot from his bed, a strange sort of panic flooding his bones. "You do - not- have permission to-”

 

"Hi!" EB!Sans crawled in first, carefully balancing two plates of food in his hands. He at least had the decency to smile sheepishly as he settled in, the flower in his usual position on his shoulder, looking at every corner the tent as if he was judging the place and was not particularly impressed.

 

Crawling in behind them, carrying his own plate of food, was Papyrus.

 

... Well.

 

Kind of.

 

He was definitely 'a' Papyrus. In the sense that the bone structure was mostly identical. But that was about where the resemblance to Sans own brother ended. It was in everything, from how he dressed, to the way he spoke, how he stood, nothing even resembling the Papyrus Sans had known in in his own timeline. Not even in the eyes, which is where he saw his Papyrus all the time, in these other duplicates. Most Papyrus's eyes were warm, but a little glassy and distant, so caught up in their own thoughts and ambitions and fantasies, that they had a hard time really observing what was actually around them.

 

Edgelord looked at you as if he was dissecting your atoms into categories, and planned to do away with any cell not carrying its own weight.

 

Sans had only been in his physical presence a handful times, but even in the beginning he had found this Papyrus's presence didn't exactly affect him the same way the others did. He was just too different. In these meetings he had discerned that this Papyrus was disturbingly intelligent, had incredibly high levels of Love, and calm and composed in the face of insults, accusations and threats (Sans had tried to send the group away with all of these). He was thoroughly confident and capable, and likely was a true leader wherever he had come from, in a way that even other Undefell Papyrus's couldn't match...

 

... And somehow, inexplicably, this had all equaled out to someone who'd pick the thoroughly ridiculous name 'Edgelord', which he insisted on being called by, and being content to follow a pair like EB!Sans and Zombie!Flowey around. Two equally thoroughly ridiculous individuals, who had invaded his tent!

 

"This is not okay, EB." Sans snarled, awkwardly rocking himself into a sitting position as his stump gave him small twangs of warning as it was quickly stuffed inside of his prosthetic, "I have a right to my privacy! You can't just come in here whenever you please!”

 

EB Sans laughed nervously, "I'm not! Not coming in whenever I please, I mean. I am coming in as literally a last ditch, Hail-Mary attempts to get you to eat this week, because I feel it is terrifying that you avoided eating for seven days now. So here!” EB!Sans said with a wide smile, shoving a plate at Sans. “Please! For the love of sanity! Eat!"

 

Sans seriously considered just getting up and leaving the tent, leaving his stalkers to stew in his rejection before, reluctantly, he grabbed the plate of food. “It's not the first time in a week.” Sans muttered, “I went to breakfast with you five days ago. "

 

"And left with almost all of your food untouched." Edgelord said, his voice so naturally laced with menace that it sounded like an accent on him. "You know, I haven't been exactly enjoying getting up early every morning just to talk at your tent any more than you have been enjoying listening to us. If you would just meet us at the damn galley we could all sleep in."

 

"No one's making you bug me." Sans pointed out, having a bite of toast, though it really was just a nibble. Despite everything, he wasn't really hungry. It was going to be a struggle to get the food down. But if he ate it, maybe EB would be satisfied and leave him be to sleep for the rest of the day.

 

“Incorrect, " Edgelord said in-between bites of his own food, "The little blue one keeps making me do it. He believes in the healing power of conditioning."

 

EB!Sans turned an embarrassed shade of blue as he fed Flowey a grape, "What? No? I mean, I would have called it the, I don't know, healing powers of...persistence? Friendship? Mweh, heh, heh...look, I believe that we can't just let a friend starve himself to death in his room, no matter how polite it would be to do so!"

 

“We're not friends, EB." Sans argued, forcing down more toast. Okay. He was starting to get hungry now. “You're just the guy stalking me."

 

“I tried using a line like that on him once," Edgelord said wistfully, "to be young and naive again."

 

"I am not a stalker!” said the stalker, "Flowey, back me up here!"

 

"I have literally never seen you make a friend without stalking them first." Flowey said, reaching down and grab another grape with his mouth. “Which probably goes to show why you only have two friends.”

 

“I have three friends!”

 

“I'm not your friend!”

 

"The three worst friends."

 

"Then stop stalking me."

 

“I will stop stalking you when you start going out to eat with us!”

 

"Making me eat with you is just a different form of stalking!"

 

"Oh my stars you're insufferable!"

 

"Then get out of my tent!"

 

“I'll get out of it when you do!”

 

Edgelord look between the two bickering Sans before taking another bite of his food. It looked very much to him like the group of three was about to become a group of four. One more body to protect.

 

That was fine. This version of Sans was afraid of practically everything, constantly slept, and walked with a limp. 

Honestly, how much trouble could he possibly get into?

 

-

 

Once the panic of losing Sans had passed, and the relief of knowing that his... lifestyle wasn't going to be discovered, everything calmed down. The funeral came and went. Condolences had come and gone. Undyne, who had come around often, was finally starting to leave him be now that she was convinced he wasn't about to throw himself into the core out of grief.

 

Now, it was quiet.

 

Now, it was still.

 

Papyrus went up into Sans room and sat, frowning at how... unfamiliar it looked. The chains, the merging of the two bedrooms, all of it had been taken down and separated long before the search party had a chance to see it. It now looked like how it had been before... before...

 

Papyrus sat on the corner and stared at nothing

 

Silent.

 

Still.

 

Haunting.

 

Why... why had he done it?

 

Papyrus had long accepted the idea that, once gone, however he had escaped, his brother had killed himself. Maybe in Waterfall, at the dump. Where the water could wash his dust away. Maybe in Hotlands, in a river of lava. Somewhere in the Underground, where literally no trace of him would be left behind. Not a speck of dust.

 

Why?

 

Papyrus couldn't wrap his head around it. His brother had always been emotionally unstable, sure. And reckless with his own well-being, of course. But... To kill himself…

 

How could Sans do that to him?

 

Papyrus felt his chest tighten, tears welling in his eyes. After all that work, the dedication, the sheer sacrifices Papyrus had made for Sans... To be hurt like this. To be devastated in such a selfish, brutal manner. That... Bastard! That selfish, stupid bastard...

 

Papyrus drew his knees into his chest and wept, his broken heart thumping against the quiet. Against the still.

 

Haunted.

-

 

Somewhere else, there's a different Papyrus.

 

This Papyrus is unlike pretty much all of his multiverse counterparts. He's endlessly sad. He's thoughtful. He's quiet.

 

He is incomplete.

 

He stands in an incomplete, blank universe. Around him are several other incomplete beings who, he thinks, might have been intended to be his loved ones. His friends. His protectors.

 

They're not anything though. He reaches out to them, slowly, desperately, but they never react. They can't see him. He's pretty certain they aren't there.

 

One of them used to be able to react. To react strongly. His family could do it. His brother. He was so much faster than him. So much more awake. He wasn't sure if his brother had ever even realized that Papyrus was awake at all. Reaching out to him. Slowly. Desperately.

 

His family left. Papyrus hadn't reached him in time, and his brother was gone. He never came back.

 

So this Papyrus stands among the shades and outlines of what could have been.

 

Sad. Quiet. Incomplete.

 

Remember this one too, if you can.

 

He is also the end of all things.

**Author's Note:**

> tbc
> 
> (Update: It might be a little longer then I'd like before the next update. Real life stuff, ya know how it goes.)


End file.
